Before there were cell phones where your child could tell you their every move, before there were 200 cable channels, before local channels started the having two-hour blocks of news (and here is the story we ran last hour because WE DON’T HAVE ENOUGH NEWS FOR THIS MUCH TIME GOD HELP US!!),  before there was helicoptering parenting – there was me on my own every day after school for 2+ hours. And Andy Griffith.

I was able to walk home from school, and my dad always worked until after 4:30 or 5 (I can’t remember), and I had the TV to myself for like a WHOLE TWO HOURS.

It was heaven.

Except – all I had were broadcast channels and the only thing they were showing at 4:00 were re-runs of really old shows. Namely, The Andy Griffith Show.

I am pretty sure I have seen every episode. It was silly, funny, corny, and hopelessly dated by the time I saw it in the early 80′s. But I still loved it. You might think I look upon the show with some nostalgia, wanting to live in a place like Mayberry with people like Andy Griffith.

hahahahah….no.

Anyway, Andy Griffith died and for the first time a real, actual piece of my childhood died. I am mad as hell. This getting older stuff is complete  bullshit.

Side-note: Remember how I told you when I younger and I would call my mom, her first question would be ‘Are you pregnant?’ Yeah, now anytime I complain about….well, anything her response is – ARE YOU GOING THROUGH MENOPAUSE? Uh, no…mom, but thanks for trying age me more than my 39 years. Love you for that!

Yeah, so Andy Griffith died. I’m bummed.

(Andy Griffith and menopause in the same post? That’s talent, folks. PURE TALENT.)